


Baristas for Hire

by haku23



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam works at a coffee shop, Steve is a regular customer, can I make it any more obvious?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The guy comes in at least five times a week-sometimes six-and by now Sam knows his order without him having to say it. The big, really big, tall, blond guy with blue eyes has a tendency to wear shirts that don’t quite fit and well, Sam has 20-20 vision so he can’t help but look when the bell over the door jingles and the dude walks in.

 

“Your boyfriend is here,” Misty says and he ignores her because not only does big, tall, and handsome have straight written all over him, Sam tries not to date customers after Natasha’s mishaps.

 

“You keep sayin’ that and I’m gonna start thinking you’re using reverse psychology on me.”

 

“That’s your shtick, not mine. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.”

 

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” he manages a hint of sarcasm that she doesn’t give him the dignity of a response to and he gives up. Far as he remembers-of course he remembers-the guy’s name is Steve and he looks like an overgrown puppy dog, big smile and huge eyes and all, when Sam walks over, “back again, dude?”

 

“Well I can’t find any place else that serves a decent cup of coffee around here so I guess you’re stuck with me,” he grins and Sam grins back.

 

“Yeah, I’m cryin’ myself to sleep every night about it. So what can I get you, the usual?”

 

Steve glances down then back up before turning his head to the side, his lips contorting into a weird frown that Sam really doesn’t know the meaning of, “I was hoping you’d recommend me something. Widen my horizons a bit.”

 

“So you want me to list off the whole menu until I get to something that sounds good.”

 

“Uh.”

 

“It cool if I take a seat? This is gonna take a while. Starbucks ain’t got nothin’ on us.”

 

“Yeah! I mean, sure. I don’t mind,” he half stands then sits back down and when Sam raises an eyebrow offers, “sorry. Habit.” As an explanation.

 

“Military or chivalry?” he asks and pulls out his own chair before sitting down.

 

“Bit of both,” Steve runs his hand through his hair and Sam starts The List with regular blends.

 

“What’s Americano?”

 

“Really? Americano. That’s the one you’re interested in.”

 

“I love my country, alright,” he doesn’t quite laugh but by now-two straight months of five times a week, black coffee, “regular” roast, two sugars-Sam knows he might as well have and laughs along with him.

 

“Alright, one Americano, comin’ up.”

 

“You know he wants you, right?” Natasha leant against the counter as he prepares the coffee, her red hair tied into a high ponytail and her chin in one hand. The smirk on her face reminds him of a less smiley Chesire cat and she wiggles her fingers at Steve when he looks over. Steve raises his hand with a smile more reserved than the one he flashes to Sam and damn, maybe the guy does want him.

 

“You been talking to Misty?”

 

“I haven’t been talking to anyone. Just watching. So are you gonna ask him out?”

 

“It gonna get you two off my back?”

 

“Maybe. Look, I’ve known the guy since before he started practically working here-he’s probably not making the first move,” she stands up and makes herself busy with cleaning their other, currently unusable, espresso machine, “think about it, Wilson, he’s not staying on the market forever.”

 

He brings the mug over and Steve accepts it with a smile-Sam starts to wonder if there’s some kind of battery pack hidden under his clothes to keep that kind of wattage from burning out, “thanks.”

 

“You can call me Sam.”

 

“I didn’t want to do that-“

 

“Annoying thing where you read the person’s name off their nametag. It’s cool.”

 

“You can call me Steve. If you want.”

 

“Sure. Let me know if you need anything, Steve.”

 

~~**~~

They lock up around 11pm, but Sam and Natasha do a final cleaning sweep of the shop at around 10PM every night. Steve rarely stays past six-Natasha says that he does in fact have a job that doesn’t involve sitting around coffee shops for hours a day-and so it isn’t until Sam makes his way over to the booth that usually houses Steve that he finds the slip of paper tucked underneath the sugar.

 

“Sam” it saying in the bottom left corner of the drawing and Sam takes a second to be impressed that he really didn’t need anything telling him who the sketch is of. Then he wonders exactly when the hell Steve found the time to draw him without him noticing. He looks down in the picture, he concentrates on the coffee machine in it, and then he wonders if he should be freaked out by the fact that Steve watches him that closely while he works.

 

“Leaving you presents now?”

 

He startles and she backs off slightly, broom out in front of her, “he was probably just bored. Spends all this time in the shop, gotta do something other than drink coffee and go to the bathroom.”

 

“Sometimes he wipes off windows.”

 

“And you let a customer wipe off our windows.”

 

“ _No_ , I let _Steve_ wipe off our windows. Spit and a napkin. He looks good for a 90 year old.”

 

“My grandma uses Windex, I don’t know ‘bout yours,” he fights with himself over how conceited it will look if he takes the drawing of himself but Natasha holds up her hands when he makes the smallest amount of movement like he wants to give it to her instead and he doesn’t make a habit of throwing out people’s hard work if he doesn’t have to. The carefully constructed stir stick houses and ‘___ wuz hear’ on the wooden tables aside, of course.

 

“He drew it for you, you keep it. Or hang it up on the wall.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“I know.”

 

He pins the drawing up on the corkboard with a few other pictures-photographs, mostly-of note from the shop’s history. One of Misty and Colleen in front of newly opened shop, another of them and Luke, Danny, and Jessica with her baby, then yet another of Misty and Colleen plus Natasha and Sam; the other three having moved on to other things. He wonders how often Steve has drawn him, or if this picture exists by itself, or if he draws other baristas. It’ll have to be a mystery for now, because Natasha yells for him to stop staring at himself and the last thing she needs is more ammunition for any jokes she or Misty want to make.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> Short chapter this time but I have to preserve the mystery of course.

The shop opens at 5:30 AM on Mondays and Sam drags himself out of bed at 4 just so he gets a chance to drink a coffee at home before being choked with the smell of the shop’s all day. Steve has been notably absent since the drawing on Thursday and so when he gets in, goes about setting up, he can’t help but keep an eye on the picture windows for him. It’s unusual to see him this early anyway, but stranger things have happened than a guy showing up at 5:30 in the morning for a cup of joe.

 

He works alone from 5:30-7:00 when Natasha comes in and she holds up a hand that means ‘don’t talk’ as she passes by. “Good morning,” he says anyway and she grunts.

 

“There’s nothing good about it.”

 

He takes advantage of the lull in customers for the moment to turn around and grab the filters from the cupboard, “if you came in earlier I could’ve made you breakfast.”

 

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t come in earlier,” she slides an apron over her head and ties up her hair, “you know who was in looking for you yesterday.”

 

“What’d you tell him?”

 

“That you weren’t here,” she says, and he probably didn’t have to ask but it doesn’t hurt, “come on, Wilson, I’m smarter than that.”

 

He grabs the errant napkins off the floor and tables and wipes the surfaces down while Natasha fiddles with the broken machine and tends to any customers. For the most part people keep the place clean without them having to ask, but there’s always a few who can’t seem to find the clearly marked garbage cans by the self-serve sugar and stir-stick station.

 

Sam walks the length of the medium sized shop and pushes in the small, cosy chairs flush with their black stainless steel tables whenever he comes across one that impedes his trek. There’s a small area near the back of the shop with booths and a chain blocking it that they reserve for dates or customers who prefer more privacy and he checks that for garbage too because there’s always one person who ignores the large ‘please ask for assistance’ sign hanging in front of it.

 

When he reaches the front of the store where the windows and more booths sit-Steve’s usual spot-he peeks out the window before saying, “He say anything about me?”

 

Natasha hands over a Latte to a half asleep patron and he doesn’t have to look at her to hear the smirk, “oh he said plenty. Why, you wanna know?”

 

“Why am I gettin’ the feeling I _don’t_ wanna?”

 

“Nothing bad. He just asked if you were weirded out by the picture thing,” she opens the counter for him and the small stack of cups in his hand and he looks to the picture again.

 

“What’d you say?”

 

“That I didn’t know, nosey. Want me to get his number so you can tell him yourself?”

 

“No, I want you to let me wash these mugs before we run out,” he grins and she rolls her eyes.

 

“I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay, but your dedication is _inspiring._ ”

 

“Things turned out bad for you; I don’t want a repeat of last winter,” he says as an explanation as to why he hasn’t, in fact, asked for Steve’s number.

 

“Steve’s not that kind of guy.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

She groans, “You’re impossible.”

 

“Maybe I’m not ready to give a guy my number,” he shrugs, and she shrugs back at him.

 

“You’ll still have a harder time convincing the boss than me.”

 

He tries not to think about Misty-if Natasha is persistent then Misty is something else. She’ll have Colleen on his case next and then it’ll be over for him; he’ll have to come up with a more convincing excuse before that happens, though he could easily end the torment with a couple of words. He really, really doesn’t want to get into the ‘why’s of his situation any more than he has to just now (he can spend hours in why, or why nots of his and other people’s lives once he falls into it) so he laughs and gets to cleaning the mugs instead while Natasha continues to serve customers.

 

Steve walks in at half-past 9 while Sam takes the order of someone else and he grins at him. He wears a too-tight white shirt and a navy jacket with a pair of jeans and Sam catches himself staring before anyone else does but only because Natasha is taking a break in the back.

 

The hour means that the customers have slowed to a trickle and so when Steve vacates his spot by the window and gets into the line he has time to talk.

 

“Back for more, huh?”

 

“Aren’t I always?”

 

“Yeah, noticed you can’t stay away from the place. What can I get you?”

 

He ducks his head and Sam doesn’t bother trying to push away the thought that a guy that big shouldn’t be allowed to act that cute, “I was hoping you would recommend something?”

 

“Maybe you should just start from the top and work your way down. Be a lot quicker than listening to me describe everything,” he holds his breath after and time, relationships, and social work classes have taught him not to expect a damn thing from conversations but Steve manages to meet his non-expectations anyway.

 

“Maybe I just like to hear you talking at me,” Steve smiles and rubs at his forehead, “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Hey man, you wanna hear it that’s fine by me. How about you go sit down and I’ll bring you something and you let me know if you like it. If you don’t, it’s on the house but if you do, you gotta do something for me.”

 

“Sure. Sounds like a fair bet,” he might as well be the sun with the beaming he does and Sam wants to make a joke about needing sunglasses but doesn’t.

 

“You don’t even wanna know what I want you to do if I win?”

 

“Surprise me.”

 

He watches Steve go to his booth and wonders if he’s being totally creepy by watching him like that except that Steve apparently watches him long enough to draw photorealistic portraits of him and so he settles on ‘just don’t make it a habit’.

 

Steve doesn’t have much in terms of a refined palate for coffee-or at least, he doesn’t seem to with how he gets the same thing every damn day-so Sam settles on something popular that isn’t just coffee meant to taste like Steve’s usual cup. Lattes tend to be popular, but Steve doesn’t take milk in his coffee and so he goes for a Mocha and its sweetness instead.

 

“Surprised you didn’t go for the latte and draw a little heart in the foam for him,” Natasha takes over for him on till again, “go on break.”

 

He picks up the bottle of chocolate syrup and carefully, carefully draws an S in the whipped cream, “didn’t want to take your thing.”

 

“It’s only for the old Russian men-they tip almost as well as Steve does. Not so much with the cute drawings though.”

 

“Hey, if you’re jealous, you can just ask, I bet he’d do it.”

 

“I’m not that kind of asshole,” she says and Sam heads over to Steve’s table.

 

“She’s something, huh?” Steve flips the notebook in front of him closed and looks up at him, all smiles as usual, “so, what do you have for me?”

 

“Thought you said to surprise you.”

 

Steve takes the drink from him and his eyes crinkle when he spots the S, “that for Steve or Sam?”

 

“Well, I figure if you like it, then you’ll remember the name of the guy who gave it to you. If you don’t, then I remember I screwed up.”

 

He takes a sip and makes a sound Sam takes to mean he likes it before licking his lips, “I guess it stands for Sam.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT IS IT THAT STEVE OWES SAM NOW FIND OUT 
> 
> not now. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


End file.
